Everyone Won’t Know What To Do With Your Healing…

It’s November, the beginning of a season of holidays in the U.S. I can already feel that familiar shift — the time when many of us return to living rooms and dinner tables that hold a lot of history. Spaces filled with old memories, old roles, and people who haven’t been part of our daily lives for a bit.

Photo by Eli Pluma on Unsplash

Maybe you’re preparing to see people you love but don’t see very often. Folks who might not have witnessed the slow, steady ways you’ve been changing. People who remember earlier versions of you, but don’t quite know who you’re becoming now.

Back when I worked as a therapist, this time of year was always the busiest. My colleagues and I would open early, stay late, have last minute phone sessions—all to make space for the folks who wanted support before heading to spend time with family. They weren’t coming because something was suddenly “wrong.”

There’s something about preparing to sit across from family—people who haven’t been part of your day-to-day—that can shake loose all kinds of old stories. Stories you’ve been working so hard to outgrow. We might feel the need for a steady place to land as we prepare to be with people who haven’t witnessed our healing up close. I’ve noticed over the years—both in myself and the people I care about—this time of year can stir up a lot.

Every year around this time, I’m reminded of another truth—some of the sharpest aches of growth show up when the people we love the most can’t meet us where we are. When the parts of us that are becoming more whole bump up against the expectations of people who only know and desire who we used to be.

There’s a special kind of loneliness in realizing someone isn’t ready for your healing—even if you love them deeply. It can be disorienting to bring your new, growing self into places that expect the old you to walk through the door.

And honestly? It makes sense. Change isn’t easy for many of us.

One thing I’ve come to understand is that growth and healing almost always come with consequences—ripples or effects, signs that something has shifted. Some of those consequences are positive, and some are harder to face. That’s just how change seems to work.

Sometimes the new shape of our lives, our values, our perspective… it just doesn’t fit neatly into the stories other people have about who we’re supposed to be. Some folks want us to stay the version of ourselves that made them comfortable. Some can’t imagine love that looks or feels different than it used to. Some just aren’t ready—some may never be ready.

I’ve been that person too—the one who wasn’t ready for someone else’s growth. I can think of moments when someone showed up more grounded, more free, more healed than the last time I saw them and I didn’t know how to respond. Times when another person’s healing caught me off guard—not because I didn’t care. But because I wasn’t expecting it.

So, I do my best to stay compassionate with myself and with the people around me. I remind myself that my healing is my own path, and other folks are probably on their own paths too. I can’t expect others to slow down or hold still because I’m not ready yet. At the same time, I can’t stop healing because others aren’t ready.

For me, especially in the ways I’ve been unlearning and healing in relationship to race and whiteness, some of the hardest parts of my own healing have shown up right there—in the tension between who I’m trying to become and who others still imagine me to be. There have been times when the folks I love most just weren’t ready for the shifts I was making. Times when my new perspective, ways of being, or values felt confusing or even threatening to them.

Not everyone wants to rewrite the stories we grew up inside. Not everyone knows what to do when you stop playing a role that made things feel predictable. Sometimes the freedom we’re reaching for shakes things up and disrupts the stories others are holding onto.

But here’s what I’ve learned to trust—something meaningful led me here. A value I hold. A hope for the kind of person I want to be. An imagination for the type of world I want to live in. A longing to feel more free. And I’m guessing something is guiding you too.

If it’s helpful, these are a few questions I ask when I feel pulled back into an older version of myself:

• Has something I care about been dismissed or violated? Can I name it?

• What matters to the people around me right now?

• What are the consequences—good and bad—of living out my own values?

• What are the consequences of living by theirs?

• If I feel the need to speak up, why does it matter that I say it here in front of my family?

• What do I carry with me after this? What do I want to leave behind?

I don’t have it all figured out. I’m still learning, still stumbling, still practicing. But I do know this—your healing doesn’t have to make sense to everyone in the room. Some people might push back or pull away. Some might not be ready for the version of you that feels more whole.

Even so—keep becoming. Keep moving toward what feels true, free, and full of love. Not everyone chooses healing. Not everyone recognizes liberation when they see it. But I believe you do. And from where I’m standing, becoming more free and more whole is well worth it.